


Salvaged Memories

by PageofD



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Lots of that too, M/M, Pretty much only ocs, also lots of present day bs, also religion, and a little manipulation, lots of ancestor bullshit, oh its a no sburb au, should i stress the mostly ocs bit?, thats a big thing, thats a thing, the canon characters are just mentioned, these tags are p much constantly gonna change, theyre mostly ocs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2323337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PageofD/pseuds/PageofD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the past, The Grand Master became a slave to his hatred of the Salvager, the ghost in the night behind his army. In the present, the descendants of the two historical figures meet and eventually fall in hate too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salvaged Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is gonna be a journey and a half.  
> This story is focused on my OC's (all 4 of them) and is p much gonna switch between The Salvager's POV (as told in dreams) and Enochi's POV.  
> Just so you don't get confused, a reminder  
>  **All of the Salvager/Grand Master parts are in Enochi's dreams/ancestral memories.**  
>  I haven't posted a lot of info about them, but i will eventually and then you'll be able to find it all on my tumblr knightagainsttime.  
> Just, everything will be on my tumblr.  
> go look at it.  
> just do it, it will make your life easier because i won't be cross-posting a lot of the backstory/character info.  
> that will all be on tumblr.  
> so yeah.  
> here we go.

You’re crouched low to the ground, thankful for your smaller-than-average horns as you sneak up to the army camp. There’s an ancient shield tucked under the back of your robes, its handle pressing uncomfortably against your spine, but you grit your teeth and bear it. You have to get it somewhere safe before He finds you and takes it again for his own selfish purposes.

You pass one sentry, flinching slightly as the sound of his boots come closer to you before stopping and turning. You sigh softly, oh so softly, and keep moving, pressing your already dusty robes into the ground with your knees as you crawl past, staying as low as you can despite the pain in your back from your constant crouching.

“Hey!” you hear someone yell and you freeze. You breathe shallowly, as quietly as you can, keeping your movement to a minimum as you prepare to flee.

“Whadda ya want, Davien?” you hear a deeper voice respond. You can feel your calf muscles starting to cramp and you grit your teeth to keep any sort of noise from escaping.

“You know that olive that the boss is lookin’ for?” the first voice comes again, and you can barely contain a whimper as your left calf cramps fully.

“Davien. If you’re tryna say you saw that olive then don’t. I know you aint seen him. Just like the last 3 times.” There’s soft laughter from the other trolls sharing the campfire and an indignant growl.

“No, comeon, dontcha see that little olive over there?” you hear a range of movement, from a small scrunch as trolls turn on the spot, to a clatter as others stand up. You growl softly as your other calf cramps up too. You’re not going to be running anywhere soon.

“He’s in the army. That mean’s he aint the one the boss is looking for you idiot.” There’s a brief scuffle and then a thud as someone hits the ground. You sigh softly in relief, at least they hadn’t found you.

You feel your leg start shaking and you mentally curse the gods. You weren’t going get away from this.

“Yeah, but-“

“But nothin’ you useless dolt!” There are more chuckles from the fire just as you feel your leg start to give out.

“No, no, nonononono.” You breathe uselessly as your leg gives out and you fall to the ground with a dull thud.

“What was that?” a new voice asks. You try and stay still, but your muscles scream in protest and you can’t hold back a small whine of pain.

“Over here!” The ‘Davien’ troll calls, his boots thudding loudly against the ground as he makes his way over. You can’t get up, can’t flee, you’ve been crouched down for too long, and the shield isn’t helping your movement any.

You hear rather than see the trolls surround you. You figure there’s 4, maybe 5 of them, and you just wait in your huddle, not looking as they hold a whispered discussion over you.

“Is this the olive the boss wants?”

“I’unno. Why’re you lookin at me like I should?”

“Cause you’re the one always going on about him Davien!”

“That don’t mean I know him!”

“We can always take him to the boss.” Says a new voice, softer and feminine. “If it’s not the right olive, then at least He gets a new soldier, right?”

There’s a round of muted agreements and then you’re kicked in the side.

“Get up olive. We’re going to the boss.” It’s the Davien troll again, not being gentle as he kicks your side again in an attempt to get you to move.

“Leave me be for a minute, okay?” you growl angrily. Your legs need time to stretch, you need to relax the muscles.

“No can do. We start marching in a halfhour. Gotta get you to the boss and get back to my troop before we start so we got no time to waste.” He kicks you again, hard enough you’re pushed onto your side so the lip of the shield cuts into your skin just below your grubscars. You glare up at your captor. He’s a mustard blood, with back-curving horns and a sneer on his face. “Get up or I’ll beat you into grubsauce.” He leers and you don’t doubt that he’d do it.

You growl but roll yourself to your hands and knees, beginning to slowly, slowly push your way onto your feet. Halfway up you collapse, your legs not ready to bear your weight. You get another kick to the side and you grunt. Your entire side will be bruised tomorrow.

“I said get up you worthless piece of trash.” Davien snarls and you growl back wordlessly.

You push yourself up again, this time with more success, and stand on shaky legs. Your lower back aches, your calves more so, and the shield still sits awkwardly, the only thing holding it in place being your robe.

“This way, comeon.” Davien snaps, pushing you towards the gaudy command tent you can see ahead.

You are marched through the camp, past tens of hundreds of campfires and thousands of just waking troops. You notice all the lowerbloods are right near the edges of the camp, the colours getting nobler as you get closer to the main tent, much like the scattering of trolls around the capital.

You and your guard are stopped at the entrance to the tent by a pair of indigo-bloods demanding to know why Davien is there.

“Found this olive lurking around the edge of camp. Thought the boss might want to see him.” Davien says, pushing you forwards a step as the indigos glance over you.

“The boss won’t care about him.” One of them grunts, the other moving to push you away. “Might as well take him out back and kill him.”

“Grand Master!” You shout fear of a likely brutal death spurring you on. “Moldes!” You call, and within ten minutes He is standing in the entryway, glaring at the closest trolls.

“Who called me? Who DARES use my name?” He snaps at his guards before noticing you standing there. “Oh. Ooohh. Well well well, if it isn’t the Defiler.” He spits, using the name his followers granted you.

“I prefer the Salvager, but yes. Here I am.” You shrug as if to say ‘ah well’ but inside you are panicking. What will he do now he has you? Will he cull you? Chain you up and keep you as a pet?

“Salvager. Like to make yourself seem like a rescuer? How quaint.” He snarls, then beckons you inside the tent.

You take a step forward, prepared to face your fate since you allowed yourself to be caught, and have to wait as a group of teal bloods trail out of the tent, barely clothed and blushing gorgeously. You let them pass, bowing low and averting your eyes to preserve their dignity some, and then pass through the red flaps into the shaded interior.  
You pause to let your eyes adjust to the lower light levels, and that turns out to be your mistake. Before you can see properly a fist hits your face and you fall, hitting your head on a table and blacking out.

~~

When you come to you try to rub your aching head only to find your hand pulled short with a rattle of chain.

“Ah. I see you’re awake. Finally.” Moldes rises from a chair across the tent and walks to where you’re chained.

“What have you done to me? Did you chain me up? You piece of filth! What do you think you are doing?!” you snarl, fighting against your confines in an attempt to reach him and

deal some damage.

“Me? A piece of filth?” he tips his head back and laughs while you slowly cut off the circulation to your hands as you struggle to break free. “Oh, but I am merely following the wishes of my Lord above.” He spreads his hands, palms facing upwards, as he speaks. “See, I would not have been able to begin this quest were it not for the visit I was paid in my dreams. My Lord came to me and he whispered in my ear,” He kneels in front of you, leaning out of reach as you snap at him. He gives a wordless snarl and squeezes your jaw in his hand, holding you still as he leans closer to whisper. “He told me about my power, he told me of my quest. My Lord told me of a great many things, but he did not tell me of you.” He uses his grip on your jaw to pull himself upright again, leaving you with an ache and a well of hatred filling inside you. “He did not warn me of the putrid Oliveblood who would be immune to my power, of how you would sneak behind my crew and Defile the temples we built.” He returns to pacing, clasping his hands behind his back. “At first I doubted. Forgive me Lord, but I doubted you. Then,” he stops mid-step, turning to face you, “then I realised that this was all part of His plan. He did not tell me of you for a reason. He knew that this would happen and, if I was made aware of it, it would not have happened.”

“You think your Lord is leading you on this path of death and destruction? Oh Gods above, really? He wishes you to march your army to the death, creating these tombs for them along the way, filled with artefacts which you have stolen from the graves beneath them? Is that what your ‘Lord’ wants? I think not! I think you are-“ you are cut off by a slap across your cheekbone, throwing your head to the side.

“I AM DOING WHAT MY LORD WISHES.” He shouts before taking a moment to calm himself. “My Lord wishes that this journey be made, who am I to tell him otherwise, or to ignore his wishes?”

“You are a fool to follow them! Can you not see the pointlessness of this endeavour?” You snarl, only to receive another slap. You can feel a trickle of blood down you cheek as he continues talking, his anger showing clearly on his face.

“Pointlessness? By the end of this I will be the emperor! I will rule the planet! And where will you be? Crushed under my boot like the tiny grub you are!” He’s in a snarling rage, storming around like a wriggler with his first pitch crush who doesn’t understand it.

“Crushed? Me? I do not think so.” You tease, smirking cockily now you’ve pinned his issue.

“You doubt me?” He storms over to you again, looming over you in your forced kneel. If you were standing his horns would barely reach your chin.

“I doubt your desire to have me destroyed so soon. You and I… we have potential.” You drop him a wink and his eyes spark with hatred.

“Potential!? What kind of potential could I have with someone who is set on destroying my….” He trails off as he realises what you are implying. “Oh.” He finishes simply, blushing a deep rust to the tips of his ears.

“Oh indeed.” You murmur, fighting to keep the blush from your face.

He hums in thought, then shrugs and turns away from you. “On second thoughts, no. I think I shall pass on this.”

“Pass? Pass on what is surely the most fated of Kismessitudes?” You ask incredulously as you watch him walk away.

“Yes. I do not wish to sully my bulge in the likes of you.” He kicks a boot up onto a chair, rubbing a speck of dirt off it.

“The likes of me?” You splutter indignantly. “How dare you? I am of higher blood than you! If either of us was to keep our bulges unsullied it would be me!”

“Ah, maybe you are of higher blood at this moment, but when I am emperor the caste system will change.” He turns back to you, smirking confidently.

“What? Who the FUCK do you think you are? You cannot change how society works!” You snarl, fighting against your bonds again.

He crosses the room to you again, this time resting his boot against your crotch, where your bulge was starting to sneak out. “You will watch your language when you speak to me.” He growls, pressing down until you hiss in pain.

“Fucking make me.” You hiss as he increases the pressure on your bulge.

“I could cull you for that.” He spits.

“You could, but you will not, bulgeface.” You smirk at him, and he grabs your collar, pulling you as upright as is allowed with your bindings.

“Just watch me.” He breathes, bending down to brush his lips against yours. “It would be so easy to call my guards in,” his other hand snakes around to tangle in your hair, angling your head the way he wants, “to get them to cull you.”

“You would not, though. You do not wish to lose your new whore so quickly.” You murmur against the lips still pressed to yours. It would be so easy to bite him, pull him into a kiss by the lip, but the real fun is watching his will crumble, watching him fall into your quadrant.

He shudders at your words, his tongue reaches out, and hesitates. “I could do it.” He takes a shuddering breath and closes the gap, crushing your lips together with too many teeth in the way, but it is so very perfect.

When the kiss breaks you spend a moment regaining your breath before you mutter “You would not do it, though.” And stretch up to kiss him again.


End file.
